Basil Before Baker Street
by Shelly Lane
Summary: I've read a lot of wonderful stories about adult Basil, but I haven't seen any about his childhood, so I had to try writing this. To avoid confusion, note that Basil is an adult in the final chapter. Unfamiliar character names are the names of siblings (unless otherwise noted). Disney, Doyle, and Titus own all.
1. Adventures With Padraic

******Chapter One: Adventures With Padraic**

"___WAKE UP!_"

I turned over. "Cliff, I am giving you approximately fifteen seconds to remove yourself from my room before I am forced to commit justifiable muricide."

"Huh?"

"Leave before I strangle you!"

Cliff sat on my bed. "But Mum says you'll be late for school!"

"Hardly credible!" I argued. "I might be duped more easily if it weren't Saturday."

My brother frowned. "Why do you talk that way?"

"I read the thesaurus to improve my vocabulary, that I may prove myself to be a proper gentleman upon reaching adulthood. Now get out!" I threw a pillow his direction.

"For someone who wants to be a sleuth, you're pretty forgetful. Don't you remember what you've been begging Mum to let you do this Saturday?"

Having a sudden burst of realization, I sprang from the bed, rushing through my preparations for the morning. Mother laughed as I hurried to the table for breakfast.

"Where's the crime?" Bryna teased. "You in a hurry to prevent a robbery or something?"

"I have much to do," I responded. "I'm afraid I have procrastinated gathering my meager belongings…"

"What?"

I sighed. "I haven't packed yet!"

"Why didn't you just say so?"

I covered my face with a hand, lightly resting my fingers on my forehead. "How have I failed to make myself perfectly clear?"

"He wants to be a gentleman!" Cliff put in. "That's why he talks all fancy."

"Have you no desire to become eloquent and sophisticated?" I queried.

He cringed. "Be a gentleman? What for?"

"That will be enough of that," Mother stated. "We're a family. We all support each other's dreams. If he wants to improve his vocabulary, we're not going to mock him."

After breakfast, I continued to rush, gathering all I would need.

"Where did I leave my toothbrush?!" I muttered rhetorically.

"You're the future detective," Cliff answered.

"You tell us which one of us hid it," concluded Bryna.

Father ended the frustration. "Give your brother back his toothbrush!"

"Insufferable vermin," I whispered under my breath, blushing with shame as I recalled the consequence my parents had threatened to enforce if they ever again heard me refer to my siblings as ___vermin_.

I finished packing just as I heard a knock at the door, which Mother answered.

"Hello, Padraic," she greeted. "Have you come to take your hostage?"

A look of horror swept over his face. "Oh no, ma'am! I would never do such a thing!"

"I was only teasing," Mother explained. "I know you're a good boy, Padraic. There's not the slightest trace of felon in you."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm going to grow up and change society."

"No doubt a most welcome change!"

Bryna stared. "That's a **__****BIG** rat!"

"Actually, I'm a mouse," Padraic answered.

"You're not fooling anyone!" remarked Cliff. "You're definitely a rat!"

"I'm a mouse! I'm just tall for my age!"

My brother turned to me. "What is he?"

"He's my best friend," I rejoined. "What else matters?"

Padraic hugged me. "Great to see you! This is going to be so fun! I've been waiting all week for this!"

I lightly tapped his back as I returned the embrace. "Indeed! I've found it nearly impossible to concentrate on my studies due to my excitement!"

Before I took my leave, my parents had a bit of a homily for me.

"While you are Padraic's guest, you are under the authority of his parents," Mother began. "We expect you to obey them and follow the rules of their home. It's a poor investigator who will ask others to submit to laws while he rebels against authority."

"Gracious hosts deserve gracious guests," added Father. "See if you can be of help around the house. Don't be irresponsible like your cousin Anatole was when he came to visit us last summer."

Finally, I was allowed to depart. To pass the time as we walked to Padraic's domicile, I decided to make conversation.

"Is this the first time you have invited a classmate to your home for the evening?" I queried.

"Certainly!" Padraic replied. "You're my only friend, you know."

Commiserating with him, I attempted to change the subject. "How are your studies?"

"I'm still doing well academically, but that idiot Bill keeps robbing me! He steals anything! Books, my allowance, my backpack, whatever he wants!"

"Bill fears you."

"Why? I'm not dangerous. I've never harmed anyone or destroyed anything." My friend sighed. "Is it my size?"

"Hardly," I answered. "I believe it to be your intelligence." As I was not tall enough to place a hand on his shoulder, I laid a hand on his wrist. "Nearly every genius in the history of the world suffered some form of rejection by society, yet they proved themselves, as you shall someday. Bill is fully aware of this fact. He knows your brain is that of a mastermind while his own is far below average intelligence."

"I vow that nothing, not even Bill, will stand in my way!"

"That's the spirit, Padraic!" I nearly chuckled.

"Why the smug grin?"

"I was merely imagining you as an adult, a brilliant mind that has changed Mousedom forever, and all those who have bullied you can find no jobs other than custodial positions under your authority."

He beamed, raising his arms in a gesture of triumph. "All will bow before me!" Padraic suddenly blushed, quickly dropping his arms and clutching his hands behind his back in shame.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not that kind of rodent," he explicated. "I just made it sound like I was going to have them all kiss my feet as revenge. Being smart doesn't mean you have to be vengeful, you know."

"I know. It's alright, Padraic. We're both aware that you meant no harm by your statement. It was a mere jocosity."

When we arrived at Padraic's home, his mother informed us that lunch would be ready shortly.

"Why don't we play outside until it's finished?" my friend suggested.

I agreed, but I was agape when he climbed the nearest tree.

"Come on up!" he coaxed.

I frowned. "Have you no fear of broken limbs?"

"The limbs are sturdy enough," Padraic replied.

"I meant your own bones rather than the structure of the tree," I clarified.

"Scared of heights?"

"I do indeed tend to be a bit apprehensive about situations that could potentially cause my demise."

"I won't let you fall," he promised. "Don't you trust me?"

"Without a doubt," I replied. "It's this tree I distrust. As for you, I would trust you with my life."

"I would never betray that trust or make you regret placing your life in my hands. You do believe me, don't you?"

Against my better judgment, I allowed him to assist me onto the lowest bough.

"Isn't this fantastic?! The views from high places are always incredible!" Padraic sighed happily. "I've always wanted to sit on one of the hands of the clock tower and see the entire city."

"Sounds like a good way to get yourself killed," I commented.

"Did you know Big Ben isn't really the name of the clock? It's actually the name of the bell that tolls when the hour changes."

"I should've suspected you'd know as much," I answered. "You do have a fascination with tintinnabulation."

I hoped I wouldn't fall. I had no desire to spend time with the family doctor. All physicians I have had the displeasure of meeting have hearts filled with avarice rather than compassion for patients. These charlatans rob the ill and injured of their money, caring not a whit whether their victims recover. Many times, I declared how foolish it was to entrust a doctor with one's health. Padraic always replied that I mustn't sneer at medical practitioners, for the day may come when I owe my life to a physician.

I was only too elated when my friend suggested we leave the tree and go inside. The rest of the day passed quickly. After lunch, we amused ourselves with board games as we recited anecdotes and discussed future adventures we desired, such as our plans for the following summer.

Before we fell asleep that evening, we thrashed each other with pillows. Padraic had to swing carefully and gently, lest he inflict actual damage due to the differences in our height and weight. I, on the other hand, could use full force against him.

After I had yielded to slumber, I had a most disturbing nightmare. In my dream, I stood before a formidable adversary, a wroth beast driven insane by his own hatred. Blood dripped from the monster's claws, and vengeance burned in his eyes. Who was this creature, and what had I done to infuriate him so?

Then I felt myself falling. It seemed as if I would plummet to my death. Where was I, and how had I managed to reach such a great height?

The monster looked down at me as I fell. "Are you alright?" He began shaking me.

At that moment, I opened my eyes, finally awakened from the horrible dream.

Padraic was staring at me. "Are you alright? You were thrashing around in your sleep."

"A mere nightmare," I responded. "My thanks to you for waking me."

He smiled sympathetically. "Would you like to hear the harp? Sometimes playing the harp calms me when I'm upset. Maybe it will help you."

Unwilling to admit my own feelings of terror but desperate for any form of relief, I nodded. As Padraic deftly produced soothing music, I drifted back into a state of relaxation. The last sound I heard that night was the tenth toll of Big Ben as the hour changed.


	2. Injustice

**Chapter Two: Injustice**

"Did you sleep better?"

"I dreamed I arrived at Buckingham Palace to converse with Her Majesty," I responded.

Padraic's eyes widened. "That's amazing! Did you get knighted in your dream?"

"Regretfully, I did not," I answered. "Of course I shall be knighted in the future, and it shall be the same day the most feared cat in Mousedom resolves never again to harm another living being."

My friend chuckled. "Sarcastic as ever, I see."

I smiled.

"Remember how we were sitting in a tree yesterday? Well, I was just thinking that bats have it made!" he exclaimed. "They can fly and hang upside-down, even at night. Wouldn't that be cool?"

"A bat could prove useful to the police," I replied. "He or she could slip unnoticed into the rafters and spy on felons."

After breakfast, I suggested we attempt the challenge of inventing our own pastime, so we stepped outside and began a game that was a combination of cricked and croquet. Half an hour later, we hadn't the slightest inkling who was winning, and we both had forgotten half the rules.

"Let's hear your sleuth lines!" Padraic begged.

"My lines?"

"'You're under arrest, you fiend!' Try that one!"

"You're…" I tried again. "You…" I cleared my throat. "If you don't mind, would you consent to being under arrest momentarily?"

My friend was too polite to laugh. "How about what you would say to get someone to release a hostage?"

"If you would be so kind, perhaps you could…if it isn't too much trouble…"

"It's alright," he comforted. "I'm sure you'll get it in time. You just need a bit of practice and a few years of experience."

"No doubt."

When Mother arrived with my siblings to escort me back to my own home, I remembered to express my gratitude to Padraic's parents for their hospitality.

"You're more than welcome!" his mother replied. "We were just saying that it's a shame Paddy doesn't have more friends like you."

Bryna gawked discourteously. "You're the smallest rats I've ever seen!"

"We're mice, dear," Padraic's father gently corrected.

"But I thought Padraic was a rat!"

"They adopted him," Cliff explained. "His own parents didn't want him because rats are incapable of love, even for their own children, so they were going to drown him until some mice agreed to raise him."

I flushed with shame at my brother's appalling fallacies. How could he possibly believe such absurd myths?! Padraic's biological mother had loved her son so much that she fought a cat to save his life, knowing it would be at the cost of her own. Her final deed in this world was to beseech complete strangers to carry her infant to an orphanage so he might have the chance to be raised in a caring home.

Furthermore, what was so shameful about adoption? It was my personal belief that inviting a child to share one's home was one of the most selfless acts imaginable.

"It's alright." Padraic's voice interrupted my thoughts. "I hear worse comments every day."

I grasped the hand that was resting on my shoulder. "Hearing sardonic remarks daily hardly makes them acceptable."

"Why are you so kind to me?"

"You're my only friend, Padraic."

"You're my only friend too, and I couldn't ask for a finer one!"

"Likewise."

As we walked home, Mother scolded my siblings for their boorish remarks. They apologized, but I knew they were truly impenitent. Silently despising the cruel way in which my friend was treated by our peers, I vowed that one day, I would see that Padraic received precisely the justice he deserved.


	3. Tutoring Sessions

**Chapter Three: Tutoring Sessions**

"Confound it!" I slammed the textbook shut.

"Problem?"

My face reddened from the discomfiture of my outburst.

"I'm afraid I fail to understand these mathematical equations," I explained.

Padraic sat in the chair next to mine. "Your parents make you study in the library?"

"I study here because it's a bit more tranquil than my home. What brings you here?"

"I come here every day after school to get books. I didn't see you here at first, but when you closed your book, I noticed you sitting at the table, so I thought I'd see if you needed help."

"It is unfitting for an investigator to give up, even when the case is challenging," I began, "but I see no way of solving these ludicrous wastes of time! Perhaps I never shall be a true detective. I'm far too impatient."

"You finished?"

I blushed a second time. Just as I assisted Padraic in controlling his temper, he caused me to realize how foolish I was to wallow in self-pity.

"I'm finished," I replied.

"Ready to try again?"

"Indeed."

"What's the first problem?"

I opened my textbook to the page showing: _3x + 5 = 26_.

Padraic smiled. "It's elementary, my dear sleuth. All you need to do is think of it as a mystery to unravel. There have been twenty-six felonies reported in the past week. Five of them have been by the same offender, and he's in jail, so those crimes are already solved."

He took a piece of paper and wrote: _3x = 26 – 5_.

"How many mysteries remain?"

"Twenty-one," I responded.

"There are still three suspects." Padraic pointed to the _3x_. "There is enough evidence to suggest they are all guilty. How many felonies has each one committed?"

I thought a moment. "They would divide the work equally."

Padraic scribbled: _x = 21 ÷ 3_

"Seven," I concluded.

"Let's check your work." He continued to write:

_3x + 5 = 26_

_(3 * 7) + 5 = 26_

_21 + 5 = 26_

_26=26_

"What do you know of angles?" I queried.

He grinned. "Acute, obtuse, and right."

Drawing an angle, he commented, "This is a right angle. You can remember that because it's just the right shape to draw a little square right here, like a cushion in a chair."

He drew a second. "You must imagine this is a mousetrap. You must be very _acute_ to escape from this trap if the spring's already this far down."

Having drawn a third angle, he explained, "This is also a mousetrap, but do you see how far away the spring is from the trap? It obviously hasn't been set properly. You'd have to be extremely _obtuse_ to let something like this kill you."

I nodded, finally understanding what the teacher had been attempting to explain in class.

"How are you with word problems?" I inquired.

Padraic chuckled. "You'd better learn to be an expert at word problems if you expect to solve and prevent robberies, murders, and the like."

After my friend had finished tutoring me, I hugged him and expressed my gratitude for his assistance.

"Think nothing of it," he replied. "By the time I'm finished with you, you'll be a mathematician!"

"You'll make a fine professor," I assured him.

His smile was nearly too broad for his face. "You mean it?"

"Most assuredly. Every student shall be most fortunate to be in the classroom of Professor Ratigan."

Padraic became more serious. "I should hope so. Being a professor is quite the responsibility. Students are trying to build their futures, learn skills they need in order to have professional careers. To think I could be helping others shape their lives!"

"I know you would never destroy anyone's future," I remarked. "You would change forever the lives of all who met you."

He nodded thoughtfully, adding after a brief pause, "I hate to bother you, but how are you at literature?"

"As I prefer science, literature is not one of my stronger subjects, but I would be pleased to assist you if possible."

"It's this 'onomatopoeia' that I don't understand. What does it mean anyway?"

"That much I can answer. It means a word that mimics the very sound of its definition."

"Example?"

I snapped my fingers. "The word 'snap' is onomatopoeia. The word itself sounds like the action it describes."

"'Snap,'" he repeated. "'Boom,' 'twang,' 'thunk,' and 'splat' would be other examples, correct?"

"Precisely."


	4. Padraic Begins His Musical Career

**Chapter Four: Padraic Begins His Musical Career**

"What troubles you, Padraic?" I queried as we began our trek home from school together one afternoon.

"The school music recital will be next month," he began. "My teacher asked me to play the harp."

"Performing in front of the entire community should be a great honor for you," I responded.

"I just can't do it! It's one thing to play for my parents or you, but to appear before an entire crowd…!" He shook his head.

"What if I join you?" I suggested.

"You play an instrument?"

"I know a few songs on the flute."

Padraic nearly laughed. "A flute and harp duet! Now there's something you don't hear everyday!"

"Well?"

"You sound like you're offering me a deal, sleuth!" he jested.

I smiled. "You're not afraid of your adoring public, are you, Professor?"

"Alright. I'll do it."

As soon as I arrived home, I began practicing my flute.

"What is that noise?!" Cliff put his hands over his ears. "It sounds like a scream of agony crossed with a dying gasp."

"No it doesn't! It sounds much worse!" put in Bryna.

I frowned. "Would you rather I practiced my violin?"

"_**NO!**_" both exclaimed in unison.

Having silenced the worst critics in Mousedom, I continued practicing; however, I felt a slight pang of fear. What if they were not as erroneous as they seemed? Perhaps I truly was no musician, and rather than aiding Padraic, I would merely destroy his performance.

How could I ever be the one responsible for ruining his plans? Why should I cause adversity in his life?

"Never!" I silently vowed. "I will never allow myself to be the cause of Padraic Ratigan's downfall! I'll die first!"

Recalling that such rash words must never enter one's mind, I cringed at my own imprudence. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself. After all, in order to think clearly, one must first release any feelings of aggravation, which can severely hinder logic.

"Perhaps I need more practice than I realized," I told myself, "but I will not abandon my best friend. For his sake, if not my own, I must not allow myself to give up."

For the next several weeks, I made playing the flute my favorite pastime. Father berated me once for practicing music three hours after midnight. (I had awakened from a most unusual dream and was having difficulty returning to a state of blissful slumber.)

Finally, the night of the performance arrived. Padraic, who always wore casual attire, looked rather ill at ease in his suit.

"I'm not sure I can do this," he confessed.

"Do you remember when I had that horrific nightmare, and you played the harp to soothe me until I could once more fall asleep?"

He nodded.

"Pretend you are playing for me now."

We took our places on the stage. Padraic kept his eyes on me as he began plucking and stroking the strings of his harp. Waiting until precisely the right moment, I pressed the flute to my lips and began my part of the performance. After what seemed an eternity, we finished our recital. Clasping hands, we bowed to our audience.

"They liked it!" Padraic whispered in genuine shock, releasing my hand and bowing yet more grandly. "I could get used to this! I do believe I'll audition for the school musical!"

"No part for me, thank you," I replied.

"But it's about the Sherlock Holmes human!" he argued.

How could I have possibly refused?


	5. Visiting Anatole

******Chapter Five: Visiting Anatole**

I trembled at the thought of what was to occur as I ate breakfast that Sunday. My parents had announced that we would be visiting our relatives.

Aunt Eve was a generous woman, always pressing a few shillings or extra sweetmeats into my palm, and Uncle Walter seemed to know precisely what to say to comfort or advise others, even though he generally preferred humor to solemnity. They were two of the most benevolent mice anyone could hope to meet.

However, their son vexed me to no end. Even though my parents assured me that Anatole would no doubt mature in the future, I sincerely doubted them. He wasted no time on courtesy, and he patronized everyone as if he were the King of Mousedom and we were his humble subjects.

Uncle Walter smiled as he greeted me. "Solve any mysteries yet?"

"I've several years remaining before I begin my career," I replied.

My aunt embraced me. "Wonderful to see you again!"

As Aunt Eve turned to welcome Bryna and Cliff, Anatole glared at me.

"How long are you going to be here?!" he demanded.

"Too long!" I retorted.

He crossed his arms. "You think you're some kind of genius, don't you?"

"It is my duty to devote myself to acquiring knowledge," I rejoined. "My latter years shall determine my level of intelligence."

"You think you're better than everyone because you read encyclopedias instead of novels!"

"Anatole, no one can have a higher opinion of you than I have, and I think you're…!" I struggled to bring to mind a proper insult. "You're not worth the breath it takes to converse with you."

The adults suggested we children amuse ourselves with a game of sorts, so we considered what we might enjoy.

"We're the guests, so we get to choose!" Cliff exclaimed.

Anatole sent a baleful lower his direction, but was unable to argue with his logic.

"I suggest we play 'dangerous criminals,'" he continued.

My cousin stood akimbo. "How do we play?"

"I'll be the criminal mastermind in charge of everyone, Bryna can be my hostage, our brother can be the super sleuth, and you can be the one who gets captured and interrogated!"

Understanding his ruse, Bryna and I agreed that it sounded like a fine game. Anatole seated himself in a chair while my siblings and I stood nearby.

I turned to Bryna. "All will be well."

She smiled. "Oh, thank you for rescuing me, Detective!"

Addressing my cousin, I attempted to sound stern. "As for you…"

"Don't tell him anything!" interrupted Cliff.

"I'd advise you to keep silent until your trial," I responded.

"What do you want to know?" queried Anatole.

"Where were you the night Cyril was murdered?"

"Who's Cyril?"

"Do not feign oblivion. We have ways of convincing you to cooperate with the law."

"Don't tell him about the bank we robbed last night!" added Cliff.

"I've already told him about how you kidnapped me!" Bryna put in.

"It appears you have much to explain," I informed Anatole.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say the three of you are in a conspiracy to make me miserable," he remarked.

Cliff laughed. "You know, Anatole, you're actually a lot smarter than you look."

He sprang from his chair. "I can't believe you'd do that! What have I done to deserve this?!"

"Just returning the favor," Bryna answered. "You like making us miserable, so we thought we'd show you how it feels."

Anatole was seething, but he was polite to us for the remainder of our visit.

During lunch, Uncle Walter inquired, "How are you doing in school?"

"Reasonably well, thank you," I responded.

"Do you have a lot of friends?" Aunt Eve queried.

"Only one, but I could not ask for a better companion."

"It's a rat," Bryna commented.

"Padraic is a tall mouse," I answered.

"He's a rat!" argued Cliff.

"I know what he is, but he prefers being called a mouse. As his friend, I respect his wishes. I would never refer to him as the other." I lifted my teacup. "To Padraic, the world's greatest mouse."


	6. Tied to a Trap

**Chapter Six: Tied to a Trap**

_So although it hurts_

_I'll try to smile_

_As I say_

_Goodbye so soon_

_And isn't this…?_

"Basil?"

A voice returns my thoughts to reality as I stare at the anvil looming overhead. I've heard it said that when one faces certain doom, one's life appears before one's eyes. However, I am a child no longer. I am a felon's adversary.

Being a detective does not mean interrogating one's irritating cousin or reading the dictionary to improve one's vocabulary. To be a skilled investigator, one must face one's childhood friend and feel nothing but odium.

"_Basil!_"

"Oh, how could I have been so blind?"

Dawson continues to mumble. I barely hear him.

"Ratigan's proved he's more clever than I! He would never have walked into such an obvious trap!"

How could this have come to pass? When we were children, Ratigan and I often sharpened our minds by challenging each other at the chessboard. How could we have become engaged in a battle of wits that could only end with his execution or my murder?

"Oh, it's finally happened! I've been outwitted! Beaten! Stuped! Made a fool of!" I continue to upbraid myself.

Dawson seems bit irate. What is he prating about now?

He concludes, "Why don't we set it off now and be done with it?!"

"Set it off now."

Ratigan would loathe that. If the trap were to spring too soon, his entire chain reaction would be ruined. One moment…!

"Set it off now?!"

Yes, it's brilliant! That's precisely what we must do!

"Yes! We'll set the trap off now!"

I'm afraid I haven't much time to make the necessary calculations, but I must escape. The fate of the empire rests in my hands. If I survive this death trap, Ratigan shall never again harm the innocent. I shall see to it.

Now I await the right moment to release the trap's triggering mechanism.


End file.
